In the Back Room of a Bad Dream
by bounceparty
Summary: No. This can't be happening. Rory's going to wake up and it's going to be a nightmare, it's definitely a nightmare but no, he's awake, he's definitely awake because there is no way that his mind is capable of thinking something this horrible up.


It's warm in the car. Much warmer than he thought this metal skeleton car could be. Rory knows Sam's proud of the thing-Stanley, he calls it-because he bought it off a guy for dirt cheap and fixed it up himself, but there's only so much you can do with a piece of junk like Stanley. Somehow, though, the heating is amazing and it's almost cozy in here, with the soft snowflakes drifting down outside as they drive along the small highway.

They're trading off picking cassette tapes from the bag of them Rory has tucked under his seat-yeah, Stanley's that old-and it's Rory's turn so obviously Sinatra is blasting and they're both singing along kind of quietly and you know this is what he wanted America to be like and he actually feels that he has friends now and it's kind of stupid but he doesn't think he's ever been this happy before.

Rory's wearing this amazingly soft vintage Spiderman sweatshirt he got with the last of his Christmas money at the convention and it's probably the best thing he's ever bought.

When Stanley jerks twice unexpectedly, and makes Rory spill his hot chocolate down the front of that new vintage Spiderman sweatshirt, and then makes this awful rattling sound before stopping altogether, Rory isn't surprised.

Sam's so sure that Stanley still works that he gets out and messes under the hood of the car for a few minutes. But Stanley is a goner.

And Sam's phone is dead and Rory's isn't getting any service at all so here they are now, trying to decide whether to walk along the little highway until they find a car place or a hotel that they can afford with the fifty bucks they have between them, or to just wait it out and sleep in the car. It's cold, and it's snowing, but it's not like they'll freeze, and there's blankets and stuff in the back. And they have food, a lot of food, because Brittany's mom packed them such a huge cooler that they hadn't even gotten through half of it on the way to the con. It sounds good enough to Rory.

"Look, Sam, it's nine o'clock at night," Rory says. "By the time we find a motel, they might not even be open. And I don't fancy a twenty mile walk just to sleep on the side of the road."

Sam runs a hand through his hair.

"We could just walk until we get a bar or two," he mutters. "Just enough to make a call."

Rory's not doing that. It's late and he's tired. So to make his point he opens the back door of the car and falls onto the seat, resting his head on a folded blanket.

"Imnotgoinanywhere," he mumbles through the fabric.

"Rory!"

Rory sits up and reaches back and shuts the door, curling up on the blanket. Sam's just jealous that Rory got the good spot.

"Rory."

Rory ignores Sam and closes his eyes.

Even through the glass of the window Rory can hear Sam talking to himself, which is something Sam does a lot when he thinks no one can hear him.

"So do I stay here and wait with Rory or do I-oh!"

Rory is curious about what the "oh!" was that stopped Sam's monologue and he sits up and looks out the window to see a truck pulling up next to Stanley.

"You having car trouble?" Rory hears a man in the truck call out to Sam.

Rory can't hear Sam's answer because the truck is idling and it's really loud.

The man says something else but not as loud because Rory can't hear it and though he's super good at reading lips it's too dark to even see the guy's face.

Sam gets really enthusiastic and Rory thinks that obviously something must have happened and yep, Sam opens the door with a happy, relieved look on his face.

"These guys say that there's a twenty-four seven car shop just down the road a bit. And they offered to take us there," Sam says, grinning. "Let's go."

Rory's about to shake his head no because he kind of just wants to stay here. But Sam's looking at him pleadingly and he doesn't want to let Sam go by himself with two random strangers.

So he climbs out of the car.

Rory can't really see the two guys, just the outlines of them in their truck and so he feels weird about getting into a car with them but Sam's already buckled in and Rory doesn't want to seem weird so he climbs in and shuts the door.

They start driving and it's only then that Rory realizes he left his phone in the car where he took it out of his pocket but he doesn't want to make them turn back just for a phone that doesn't get service and besides it'd be too awkward to ask, anyway.

It smells like cigarettes and beer and fast food grease in the car and Rory's feeling kind of uncomfortable but hey, if the car place is just down the road like Sam said it was it'll only be a few minutes until they get there.

They drive and drive and the silence is really awkward and Rory wonders where the place is because it seems like they're just driving into more of the same rural Ohio highway.

Then, finally, Rory hears the signaler go and he looks through one window and then the other to see if he can see the car place.

But no, they're turning onto a little road off the highway, and by the feel of it it's a gravel road. Rory doesn't know too much about American road systems and geography, but as far as he knows car places aren't usually located on one-lane dirt roads.

"So what's this place called?" Rory leans forward and asks, trying to squelch that tiny, irrational feeling of panic in the pit of his stomach.

The two guys look at each other and then suddenly the car veers off onto the side of the road and stops. The driver turns it off and pulls the keys out of the ignition and tosses them to the other guy.

And then Rory sees the driver reach into his pocket and pull out a gun and aim it at his face.

Oh god what is happening.

"Get them outside," he says to the other guy, the one with the baseball hat.

The minute he speaks Rory knows he's seriously drunk and god knows what else and now he's even more scared if that was even possible because a guy with a gun is never good but a drunk guy with a gun is even worse.

Is this actually happening? Because the guy with the baseball hat is tossed the gun and he points it at them and snarls, "come here."

Rory and Sam get out of the car and lean against the side of the filthy truck as the driver gets out, bringing out one of those lantern things.

He turns it on and with the light Rory can see they're in the middle of nowhere. Oh no.

Baseball hat makes them put their hands together in front of them and let themselves get tied with duct-tape and this is so surreal.

Are they being kidnapped?

"Um," Sam says, his voice high with panic, "I don't have any money and my family doesn't have any money and Rory's an exchange student so he doesn't have any money here. If you let us go we won't tell anyone."

It's too dark to see the guy's faces but Rory can tell they think Rory's reasoning with them is funny because the flashlight shines on their teeth.

So if they don't want Sam and Rory's money...?

There's this raw horror bubbling in his stomach on top of the full-blown panic and disbelief that's already there, and he knows why it's there and oh god he hopes he hopes he hopes he's wrong.

The men make them sit down on the lightly-snow-covered yellow grass on the side of the road, their backs against a tree.

All of the sudden Rory gets this urge, this wild urge to scream for help. What if there's someone out there that could hear them and help them?

So he sucks in a breath and closes his eyes and before he can chicken out yells "HELP!" as loud as he can and as loud as he can. He's in the middle of his next one when a meaty hand is clapped over his face and he can't breathe and oh god are they going to kill him?

He tries to tell the man to stop but he can't and he's moving around, trying to get the hand off his face and panic is singing his bones and there's a ringing in his ears and blinding stars in his vision and oh god he's going to die.

"Never do that again," one of them growls before taking his hand off Rory's face.

Rory sucks in a huge breath and for a few seconds he forgets what's happening, just knows that he can breathe and it is gloriously good but then there's something being shoved into his mouth, it's a disgusting-tasting rag, and he tries to get it out of his mouth but it's not moving and tears spring to his eyes and he hates himself for crying.

"You know what those lips are good for, Greg?" Baseball hat laughs. "I've been wanting them since I first saw them."

Rory feels Sam stiffen next to him.

They both know what the guy means and oh god are they really going to do that to Sam? Please no because that means they do want them for sexual stuff and oh god what does that mean they're going to do to him?

Rory doesn't want to see this, he can't see this, he won't see his best friend like this.

He closes his eyes and wishes desperately, so desperately that when he opens them again it'll be him and Sam in the car, singing Sinatra and going to the hotel and getting room service and watching stupid cable TV and staying up too late and sleeping in and then going back to Lima and basking in the normality of it all. Hot, burning tears burn his eyes.

He feels Sam being pulled away from him and he wants to say something to him, anything to make it better but there's nothing to say and he can't even say anything with the gag in, anyway.

Rory hears gagging and he wants to rip out his ears. But then he hears a grunted expletive that isn't Sam's and he opens his eyes just to see Sam crying but with a sort of triumphant look on his face and Rory hopes that he'll be able to fight back like Sam is when they get to him.

"He bit me, that little shit," the man snarls, bringing the gun to Sam's temple.

"Easy, Rob," Greg says. "Maybe this one will be more...cooperative."

It strikes him deep in the stomach that they're talking about him and no he's not going to be cooperative he's going to fight and they're not going to do this to him, he won't let them.

Rory flinches and pushes himself back as far against the tree as he can. No. This can't be happening no no no no it's not happening. He's going to wake up and it's going to be a nightmare and oh god they're touching him now and it's a nightmare, it's definitely a nightmare but he's awake, he's most definitely awake because he can feel their hot hands through his jeans and then on his bare skin and oh god they're not just going to use his mouth and there is no way, no way that his mind is capable of thinking something this horrible up.

He tries to struggle, tries to fight back but they're too strong for him and he's wiggling like one of those fish that frantically wiggle on the dock, knowing they're dying, knowing they're drowning in the air and that exactly is how he feels and there's this high pitched wheeze in the air and he knows it's his, knows how pathetic he sounds and they're probably getting off on that but he can't stop it any more than he can stop them from doing this.

Rory gets pushed onto the ground on his stomach and he can hear before he feels his left wrist breaking underneath him.

He tries to tell them to stop but he can't through the cloth stuffed in his mouth and he doesn't even know if he could even if his mouth was empty.

He's trying to be strong, so strong, but he can't help the whimper and the sob that he tries so hard to keep back when his legs are pushed apart and it happens. It hurts it hurts it hurts oh god oh god is this really happening yes it is of course it is because he couldn't ever imagine this kind of agony.

So he doesn't focus on that.

He focuses on the pain in his wrist instead, how it hurts in waves, rather than one continuous stream of pain, how it's both a sharp, hot pain and an achy one, how he's never broken a bone before and he didn't think it would hurt this much. He focuses on that until it's not enough.

And then he counts.

There are fifty-seven chunks of gravel, eight shriveled leaves, five trees, and three sticks in his range of vision. He counts them again and again and again.

And then there's nothing for him to do but focus on the real pain.

"You gonna run home to your mommy, tell her that you're a little girl, you're a little bitch?" he growls into Rory's ear. "That's right. You're my bitch."

Rory squeezes his eyes tighter, trying not to let the tears escape.

The man pulls out the gag and throws it on the ground.

"Say it, bitch. Say you're my girly little bitch," the man says, resting his hand on Rory's shoulder and tugging at his hair.

He's not going to say it. He won't say that.

"You're my little bitch, leprechaun. Tell me what you are."

His mouth isn't working and he can hardly breathe from the shock that's going through him, much less actually say anything, but the man takes it for some kind of disobedience or something and lets go of the hair he's been rubbing and slams Rory's head down on the ground.

White hot agony erupts in front of his eyes, and he can't control the tears this time that trickle down his face and into the snow.

"I said, bitch, say you're my fucking bitch," he snarls. "Say it or I'll put a bullet into blondie's head."

Rory's sobbing now, huge, gasping sobs, and he doesn't want to say it. Please please please don't make him say it. But he has to say it or Sam will die but they're probably going to die anyway and oh god he doesn't want to die, he doesn't want to die like this and it just hurts, hurts so badly.

"Just say it!" Sam screams as the man brings the gun to his head and pushes the tip into his hair. "Rory, say it. Please."

Oh god he has to say it now.

"I'm your bitch," Rory chokes out. Something inside him cracks.

The man whacks him in the back of the head. "What was that, bitch?"

No he's not saying it again he can't say it again and no. Please don't make him say it again.

"He said it!" shouts Sam, his voice cracking. "He already said it."

The other man, Rob, turns to Sam.

"I don't believe we asked you to speak," he snarls before raising the pistol and cracking it against the side of Sam's head.

Sam is knocked to the ground from the force of the blow and now he's just lying on the ground and oh god is he okay? Rory thinks he's okay because he can see the rise and fall of his chest but there's blood, a lot of blood and please don't let Sam die.

Then he realizes something and icy cold fear crawls down his throat because now it's just him and these two men and so he's not surprised when the other man, Rob, takes Greg's place when Greg is finished. He's not surprised, but it doesn't make it hurt any less or make it any better and by now if he could choose to die or keep being raped by the two men he'd choose death because this is worse than death, worse than hell, and he just wants it to be over.

Rory closes his eyes and tries to muffle his sobs in the snow because he doesn't want them to get the satisfaction of hearing him cry.

Finally, finally, Rob is done too and if it happens again Rory knows, just knows, he'll die.

But it doesn't happen again.

Rory hears the sound of zippers closing.

"Well, thanks, boys," one of the men jeers, "that was fun."

There's the sound of two sets of footsteps crunching on the snow-covered gravel and it seems like they're walking back to their truck.

Are they done? Are they finally finished with them? Rory hopes so, hopes so badly it aches almost as much as his body because that means it's over.

Rory hears the slam of car doors and an engine starting and the sound of the truck gets softer and softer until it's gone.

And then they're left there, alone.

It's cold, so cold, and it's dark and he's in pain, so much pain and oh god what just happened and did that really happen and he's scared and hurt and sobbing silently, giant, quaking sobs that don't even begin to contain the magnitude of it all.

He doesn't know what to do and the thought claws its way into his brain that maybe he and Sam are going to die here because no one knows where they are and his phone is in the car and it doesn't have service even and he can hardly move much less get up and walk and he doesn't want to die and obviously the two men left them here for dead and that would make it worse, to die here, because that's what they wanted and he doesn't want them to take any more from Sam and Rory.

He doesn't want to die but the alternative, this alternative, this lying on the ground helpless and broken and bleeding and crying and alone isn't what he wants either.

Is he alone? Rory looks over at Sam.

He's lying there, motionless, and Rory wants to call out his name and see if he's conscious but numb, so numb like how Rory feels, or is still unconscious. He'd feel better if he wasn't so alone, alone with himself and the cold, agonizing horror churning through his veins. But he can't call out, can't say anything, because his vocal chords aren't working and maybe he's crying too hard to make a sound.

Then he hears the sound of another car pulling up. Oh god oh god oh god there's another one and it's going to happen again and acidy bile churns up his throat and somehow it makes his vocal chords start working again because suddenly he's screaming "NO NO NO NO NO" over and over again and he has this hope, this stupid, wild hope, that if he says no this time it won't happen again.

Somehow he has the courage to open one of his eyes because he didn't see the faces of the other men that well and if it's going to happen again he'd like to be able to help put them in jail.

He turns his head to the road just as the car door slams. Oh god it's a man and he's walking toward them with his hand over his mouth and please please please make him not do this.

Rory tries, again, to move, to do something besides sitting there and taking it, but the pain is just so bad and so all he can do is just keep saying "no, no, no" except now it's not much more than a whisper.

The man stands a few feet away from him and he looks at the man and the man looks at him, at his cheeks wet with tears and snow and probably blood and the wet and dirty sweatshirt and the lack of clothes on his lower half.

Rory's eyelids slowly sink down. He saw the face. He doesn't want to want to see what happens next.

"Oh my god, they're kids, Ellie," the man calls out, kind of hoarsely.

Ellie? That's a girl's name, and a girl isn't going to hurt them, is she?

Relief soars through him and if he had the ability to smile he would have, probably. They aren't going to do what the men did. Hopefully.

Another car door opens and slams and he hears footsteps running towards him.

There's a gasp, a sharp intake of breath, what sounds like a muffled sob.

Hot, hot shame flushes his cheeks because he knows how he looks right now and there's at least two people seeing him like this and oh god they must be feeling so bad for him and he feels bad for himself, too, but this is different and they're total strangers, seeing him like this.

He opens his eyes again because he wants to make sure they're not going to hurt him.

The woman-Ellie-walks up to him and she's crying and she crouches down next to him and it seems like she's going to touch him or say something but ti's like she can't figure out what to do because she just gets down on the ground right near his face and cries.

The man whips his cell phone out with hands that Rory can see are shaking, really shaking and dials three numbers. He can hear them.

"Hi, my fiance and I were driving home and then we found these two kids on the side of the road, they've been attacked, um, raped, and uh, one's unconscious," he says before a pause where he listens to the operator at the other end of the call. "Uh, we're on Darby Road off the highway. Please hurry."

He hangs up even though Rory is pretty sure you're not supposed to hang up on emergency calls, that's what he's learned from watching American television, and goes over to Sam.

And then Rory realizes that the man got service here and it hits him that if they had decided what Sam wanted to do, walk until they had gotten service, they would have been able to call for assistance and then they wouldn't have gotten attacked by the men and it's all his fault.

It's unfair and now he blames himself for this and he wants to tell Sam he's sorry, so sorry, so so so sorry but Sam can't hear him.

Rory closes his eyes again, but opens them when the woman touches his face.

"What's your name, sweetie?" she asks.

He can feel his lips moving or trying to move, trying to say his name but he's tired, so tired and cold and hurt and he can't even say his own name.

She's in her early twenties and she has brown hair and blue eyes and she's really pretty and she's someone that if he saw in any other context he'd be really attracted to and that reminds him that oh god, his first time was with a man and it was taken from him and that's not fair and it's so wrong and now he's crying again, his shoulders trembling, and he hides his face because he doesn't want her to see him cry.

"It's okay," she soothes. "You don't have to tell me."

He wants to tell her that it's not okay. But he can't.

The man comes back over to them with a blanket.

"I put the other kid in the car to keep him warm before the ambulance comes," he says, handing the blanket to Ellie.

She nods, thanking him, and turns back to Rory.

"You need to get up, baby," she says softly. "We need to get you out of the cold."

Rory doesn't move. He can't. He doesn't want to, maybe, either.

"His hands are probably bound under him," the man says. "They were for the other boy."

"Did you take it off?" she asks, reaching out to turn Rory over.

"No, Ellie!" he shouts, and Rory flinches involuntarily. "It's evidence."

So the man reaches out and kind of picks him up and Rory hurts and Ellie wraps a blanket around him and then the and Ellie half-walk, half-carry

Ellie's hand keeps jostling his wrist and the pain is unbearable but it gives him something to focus on and the man opens the car door and they put him in gently and close the door behind him and he looks out the window and he sees the man holding Ellie against his shoulder as she sobs.

Why is she crying? She has nothing to cry about.

Rory turns away and looks at Sam.

Sam's next to him, propped up against a blanket on the window and from what he can tell the bleeding's stopped on his head and that's good, really good, and it seems to him that Sam is going to be okay which is good, which is great, but he's jealous because he's never, ever, going to be okay.

Rory shivers.

He's afraid he'll bleed through the blanket and he doesn't want to get blood on the seat of their car but he doesn't want to tell them that or anything.

Rory closes his eyes and tries not to get his tears on the nice seats, either.

He hates the two men for doing this to them, hates Sam, almost, for not getting it as bad as he did and being unconscious for the basically the whole time Rory was getting raped, hates himself for not being able to fight the men off.

And he hates hospitals, he hates them, and he has a pretty good idea of what they're going to do to him there and he's going to have to answer questions and nothing is ever going to be the same and he just wants to go home to Ireland and lie on his bed and cry.

It's not fair.

He hears the siren of the ambulance in the distance and probably a police car too, even though he's not all that familiar with those sounds in real life because up til now he's never heard an American emergency vehicle in person.

And it's what he's wanted to hear since they got that gun pointed at their faces but it means they're not going to let him go home and he just wants to go home.

He cries.


End file.
